


House/Cuddy Drabbles

by dreamsofspike



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: A collection of my drabbles for the pairing House/Cuddy.Warnings: bondage, dom/sub, dark





	1. Beginnings

**She hasn’t moved for hours.**

**Her hair hasn’t been combed in days, disheveled from rubbing against the cheap vinyl seat beside his bed. She’s sleeping, her brow furrowed in concern, and the restless nap she’s taking has not alleviated the dark circles under her eyes. His hand is clutched firmly in hers, even in sleep – and he knows that she’s only the barest twitch of his hand away from waking.**

**He can’t remember the last time anyone cared this much – even Wilson.**

**His heart aches at the thought, and the hand twitch is involuntary – but it _does_ awaken her.**

**“Hey,” she murmurs, sleepy but concerned, sitting up. “How are you feeling?**

**He considers deflecting her concern with a sarcastic comment – doing things just the way he’s always done them.**

**But – doing things that way is what brought him here.**

**It’s what cost him Wilson.**

**He studies her uncertainly, startled by the open affection he sees. He hasn’t yet driven it out of her – hasn’t shattered the trust and love she somehow still feels for him.**

**And maybe – just maybe – he doesn’t have to.**

**_How’re you feeling?_ she asked.**

**Like maybe – just maybe – it’s a good time to start over.**


	2. Middles

**He storms in with hurricane force. He thinks that he owns the place – and that he owns _her_ , as well.**

**She’d never tell him, but in some ways, he does.**

**She doesn’t let it show, her tone warning. “House – I’m in the middle of something here…”**

**He eyes the well-dressed Korean couple on her couch with indifference. They blink at him, utterly at a loss. They speak no English – hence the presence of the Korean interpreter seated in the chair between Cuddy’s desk and the couch.**

**“In the middle of what? Negotiating what sexual favors you’re willing to perform for their donation?”**

**“Don’t translate that,” Cuddy snaps at the translator.**

**House grins at the couple as he adds with a confiding wink, “She’s up for threesomes, great at oral, but any kinkier than that and she’s clueless. Discipline – forget it. I can get away with _anything_.”**

****************************

**He is laid out on her bed, wrists and ankles secured to the bedframe – utterly helpless. Naked, she crouches between his legs, displaying the particular talent he lauded earlier, smiling around his erection at his plaintive moans, muffled by the ball gag strapped into his mouth. His bare chest, stomach, legs, are covered with marks left by her eager mouth and expert fingers.**

**He’s spent the last hour alternating between begging her to stop, and begging her not to.**

**_No good at discipline, huh?_ Cuddy smirks. _How about_ now, _House_?**

**Her cell rings, and his pleasured groan becomes a frantically frustrated whimper as she straightens, winking at him as she licks her lips. Twirling a finger idly around the head of his twitching member, enjoying the way he writhes desperately under her teasing touch, Cuddy speaks casually into the phone.**

**“Oh, Wilson…hi...Listen, call me back later? I’m right in the middle of something…”**


	3. No Happy Ending

She sits alone in her living room, waiting for House to come back into the room. Contented, she idly leafs through a photo album on the coffee table, smiling a little at the memories it holds.  
  
She and her last boyfriend, at the Grand Canyon a couple of years back, smiling for the cameras, high on the thin mountain air and the exhilaration of their accomplishment.  
  
Her smile fades slightly as she thinks of the infuriating, fascinating man in the next room.   
  
House will never go hiking in the Grand Canyon with her -- and if by some miracle he could, she wouldn't catch him cheesing for the camera with her for the sake of posterity.  
  
The man she's chosen to love at this time in her life is locked behind thick walls he erected long ago to defend what's left of his shattered, wounded heart. She's become used to them, and has accepted the fact that she'll have to be satisfied with the occasional glimpse he allows her behind those walls, in rare moments of unguarded vulnerability.  
  
She knows they'll never have the white picket fence... the 2.5 kids... the June wedding surrounded by friends and family...  
  
At any rate, the groom's side would be all but empty.  
  
She knows that she and House will never have the happy fairy tale life she dreamed of as a little girl.  
  
But every little girl grows up -- and Cuddy had long since learned that no fairy tale could compare with the raw, breathtakingly painful beauty of real life, even with all it's unpredictability and pain.  
  
She shrugs inwardly as she sets down the photo album, mildly surprised at how little these thoughts trouble her.  
  
So she won't ever have her happy ending.  
  
She smiles up at him as he comes back into the room, rising and meeting him with a forceful, demanding kiss that instantly captures his full attention.  
  
 _Who says this ever has to end?_


	4. Any Last Words?

"My God, I thought they'd _never_ leave..."   
  
Cuddy murmured in mingled frustration and relief as she came around her desk, grasped House's collar and turned him around to push him against the desk in a single, fluid motion. House grinned at her as he leaned against the edge of the desk, his hands reaching out to grasp her hips and pull her in closer.  
  
"Well, if you'd agreed to my course of treatment a little sooner..."  
  
"Your course of treatment is marginally insane, House..."  
  
"But... you don't really want to talk about that right now... do you?"  
  
His hands trailed slowly inward from her hips, holding eye contact as he subtly teased her. His wicked grin widened slightly as she drew in a sharp breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment as she allowed him to pull her closer.  
  
"No," she admitted in a hoarse whisper, one hand rising to thread through the hair at the back of his neck, drawing his head down and guiding him into a deep, thorough kiss. "No... we don't have very long. Let's not waste our time."  
  
"No," House agreed, his lips against hers. "Let's not."  
  
Cuddy closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in the kiss... so much so that she barely heard the strange mechanical buzzing sound behind her. She frowned, only slightly distracted, as she drew back and murmured without opening her eyes.  
  
"What's that...?"  
  
House drew back, a smug smirk on his lips.  
  
"Turn around and see for yourself."  
  
Cuddy turned around, her mouth going slack in stunned embarrassment as she saw that the formerly carefully closed blinds were now open. Her gaze passed between the surprised, curious expressions of the employees outside her office -- who had stopped whatever they were doing to take in the scandalous sight of their boss making out with one of her employees in her office -- and House's hand on her desk, closed around some kind of remote control device she had never seen before.  
  
She turned her accusing, demanding gaze on his face, but he only smiled at her, holding up the remote and deliberately closing the blinds, then opening them again, to make it perfectly clear what he had done.  
  
Cuddy's cheeks were flushed with angry humiliation -- which swiftly shifted to pure rage, her eyes narrowing as he lips tightened into a dangerous smile. She turned to face him again, heedless of the crowd as she moved to stand between his parted legs again.  
  
House's smirk disappeared when one perfectly manicured hand darted between his legs to take a firm, threatening hold on the proof of just how much this whole situation turned him on. He bit back a strangled cry of alarm as she tightened her hold, her eyes glittering mercilessly as her smile widened slightly, her voice a husky, suggestive whisper, as she spoke with dangerous softness.  
  
"Any last words?"


	5. The Desk

She's angry.  
  
No... furious, in fact.  
  
 _After all this time, subverting my renovation plans, doing everything he can to frustrate me and get under my skin, he_ finally _does something that's actually sweet and romantic and genuinely giving... and I can't even enjoy it for ten minutes before he's behaving like an ass again!_  
  
She turns around and returns to her office before he can see her, too embarrassed to be caught approaching him when he clearly couldn't care less about the attention she's offering. Once in her office, however, she changes her mind again.  
  
Her jaw set with angry resolve, she picks up the phone and dials his extension. She doesn't really expect him to pick up, but he does.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"My office. Now."  
  
He doesn't agree, but he doesn't refuse either, and while she waits for him, she prepares for his arrival.  
  
When he arrives, the blinds are drawn and the lights are dim. There's no one in the lobby except a single admitting nurse with nothing to do at the moment. House walks through the door to Cuddy's office, then stops short at the sight of her standing there just inside the door.   
  
Her arms are crossed casually in front of her, a metal ruler dangling from her right hand. There's a sharp smile on her lips, and her blue eyes sparkle with mingled amusement and anger.  
  
"Hookers on hospital property, House?" She speaks softly, and her tone is all the more dangerous for it. "You know better than that."  
  
House casts a meaningful glance toward the familiar desk, and she knows that he _remembers_ , before he retorts just as softly, "Yeah, well... what are you going to do about it?"  
  
"I think you already know."  
  
"Are you upset because I shouldn't have had the hooker at the hospital, or because you wish I hadn't hired her at all?"   
  
But even as he quietly taunts her, House is making his way toward the desk. He leans his cane against the edge of it, trailing a hand slowly, affectionately, over the worn smooth wood.  
  
"Keep talking, House." But there's warmth and amusement behind the warning in her voice.  
  
"So it's option B, then. Jealousy."  
  
The last word breaks off in a shuddering gasp as he feels the edge of the ruler tracing slowly up the back of his thigh, as Cuddy's hand reaches around him to gently cup the swelling bulge in the front of his jeans.  
  
"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?"  
  
His eyes are half-lidded, his breath deep and quickening as his head falls back slightly, but he makes himself look down to meet her eyes, his tone suddenly gentle and serious.  
  
"I didn't sleep with her. I didn't hire her for that."  
  
There's a brief flash of relief in her eyes before she manages to cover it, because she knows that House wouldn't lie to her about it if he _did_ sleep with the hooker. He has no commitment to her, and he seems rather protective of that fact.  
  
"That's irrelevant," she informs him. "You still brought her on hospital property. That's a liability -- and a punishable offense." She pauses, flashing a bright smile as she orders, "Drop your pants, House."  
  
As she proceeds to re-enact one of their more kinky -- but also most erotic -- moments, House thinks that the simple peace offering of finding the desk for her office was quite possibly one of the best investments of his life.


	6. Try to Be Happy

The first kiss was an accident born of sheer mutual pain.  
  
The second kiss was an accident born of sheer mutual... well... horniness.  
  
They're alone in her office, in the middle of a heated confrontation... which suddenly becomes heated in a much different way. Their mouths are greedily searching each other, hands roaming under clothes to grasp at flesh with an urgency born of long loneliness.  
  
Abruptly he pulls away, leaving her reeling as he hurries purposefully toward the door.  
  
"House... wait!" she sputters at last, spinning around to face him as he reluctantly pauses near the door. "Where are you going? What...?"  
  
He lets out a heavy breath, eyes focused on the floor as she cautiously closes the distance between them.  
  
"This... this isn't gonna work. We both know that." He paused, venturing a glance up into her eyes as he added in a hushed, miserable voice, "You know I can never... make you happy. I can't even make _me_ happy."  
  
"Yes, you can." Cuddy steps close to him, reaching up a gentle hand to cup his cheek, following relentlessly when he tries to pull away. "House... it doesn't have to be this way. You _can_ be happy. You _can_." She hesitates before asking, "When was the last time you tried?"  
  
"I can't," he mutters, starting to turn away.  
  
"Fine," Cuddy replies, swiftly moving to block his escape.  
  
He rolls his eyes at her, evasive, trying again to pull away from her, but she wraps her arms around his waist, one hand resting at the back of his head and insistently tugging his head down for another kiss.  
  
Just short of their lips touching, he shakes his head slightly as if she just might be a little crazy and whispers, "What... what are you doing?"  
  
She smiles up into his eyes with affection and sympathy as she murmurs a gently stunning response.  
  
"Trying _for_ you."


	7. Wake Up

_Everything is tumbling end over end, lost in a chaos of crunching metal and smoke and blood. When everything comes to a stop, he already knows where she'll be and what he has to do._  
  
Maybe if I'm faster this time...  
  
 _He wraps the scarf around Amber's leg, tying it tight with trembling hands before looking up to her face. Suddenly he's frozen with shock and horror at the familiar face staring back at him with a soft, almost serene smile._  
  
It's no longer Amber, but Cuddy.  
  
"Just wait. Give you enough time... and you'll kill me, too, House. You'll destroy me, like everything else you touch..."  
  
He shakes his head, his mouth dry and his heart pounding with terror and dismay, as he scrambles blindly backward away from the strange specter that keeps shifting back and forth between Amber's face and Cuddy's.  
  
"No," he whispers. "No... I don't want to... don't want to hurt you... please, no... please..."  
  
"House! House, wake up... wake up!"  
  
A gentle hand shakes his shoulder, and he blinks sleepily as he's roused to wakefulness. Concerned blue eyes stare into his, her pretty mouth pursed with worry as she studies him closely.  
  
"You were dreaming," she murmurs, her voice soft and soothing as she leans back on the pillow beside him, pulling him with her into a soothing embrace, his head pillowed against her bare breasts. "It's all right..."  
  
House is silent, unwilling to share the nightmare from which she rescued him -- but the violent trembling that shakes through him is more than enough to tell her how traumatic it was.  
  
And the words he spoke in his sleep tell her even more.  
  
She runs a tender hand through his sweat-dampened hair as she holds him close, willing him to take comfort from her closeness, and to know that she can take all the risks and uncertainties that come with a relationship with him.  
  
He's worth it.  
  
"It's all right," she murmurs again, pressing a tender kiss to his brow. "I'm right here... and I'm not going anywhere."


	8. Ice

"Let's try something new."  
  
Those fateful words led him to this place, lying here on her bed, tied down and blindfolded and utterly at her mercy. He smiles, anticipating the pleasure he's found her to be so good at dishing out.  
  
He shivers at the first brush of something wet and searingly cold against his skin -- and his entire body tenses with instinctive apprehension.  
  
"No..." he breathes out before he can stop himself, his wrists twisting and jerking against the bonds.  
  
She immediately stops, withdrawing the ice cube from his chest and frowning with concern.  
  
"No?" she echoes in confusion.  
  
He swallows hard, his voice trembling, his face flushed with shame -- but he repeats with a desperate note in his voice, "No... please..."  
  
"Okay... okay," she murmurs soothingly, immediately understanding that this is somehow important to him.   
  
She sets the ice aside and swiftly unfastens the bonds and blindfold, climbing under the blankets beside him and taking him into her arms. He won't look at her, and she doesn't press the issue. It's enough for her that he's allowing her to hold him like this, to somehow try to make up for the mistake she's still not quite sure how she made.


	9. White Lace

He’s had dozens of fantasies about her over the years in which he’s known her.  
  
Sometimes she’s wearing black leather, wielding a whip and glaring at him with a mixture of menace and suggestive promise, ready to punish him for his latest outrage.  
  
Sometimes she’s wearing a slinky little red dress, looking at him through wide, alluring eyes that draw him in, promising him so much more than just what he can see.  
  
Sometimes, she’s wearing nothing at all.  
  
He’s never pictured her like this – in just simple, plain white lace panties and bra, holding one arm across herself in unexpected self-consciousness – gazing up at him through eyes that beg him not to do this – not to take it this next step – unless he’s willing to follow through.  
  
And suddenly – he _is_ willing.  
  
Cuddy, like this – vulnerable and wanting him – is the most alluring thing he’s ever seen.


	10. Being Known

They’ve been officially “together” for nearly a year now – and he’s still a mystery to her in so many ways.  
  
He hides so much from her – from the world – and though he’s allowed her to see more than she ever thought she would, it’s still not quite enough for her. He sees right through her facades, knows her so well in spite of her every attempt at concealment, that it only seems fair that he should grant her the same intimacy of knowledge.  
  
 _Yeah. Right. Don’t forget who you’re dating._  
  
She supposes she should be happy with the fact that he’s even willing to call this a relationship – to give up that much of his grouchy, withdrawn image.  
  
It’s progress.  
  
It’s _something_.  
  
She just hopes that someday he’ll really let her know him.


	11. Rachel

House had a secret.  
  
Most evenings he spent at Cuddy’s home, Rachel was already asleep; and they were usually uninterrupted. During the days, he had Cuddy to himself – relatively speaking – at work, as Rachel was with a babysitter. In fact, he rarely saw the child at all. As it turned out, she hadn’t really affected his relationship with Cuddy all that much – at least not in any negative sense.  
  
What he didn’t tell Cuddy was that on the rare occasions when the baby would wake up in the middle of the night, while they were sitting on the couch together in the dark – he actually welcomed the sound.  
  
Rachel was a part of Cuddy’s life now – and more and more, he found that he wanted her to be a part of his, as well.


	12. How Much?

She's there when he reaches his lowest point, during those long, lonely months when Wilson won't speak to him, won't even look at him. She knows that he needs _someone_. He tries to pretend that he doesn't need anyone; and yet left completely to his own devices, she knows he'd fall apart.  
  
At first he won't talk to her, except to tell her to leave.  
  
Then, he becomes comfortable with her presence, allows her to sit and watch TV with him -- but he still doesn't talk about Amber, or Wilson, or how lonely he's been since his entire life fell apart.  
  
Finally one night, he's lonely and sad and drunk enough to talk to her -- and the things he says break her heart.  
  
"He'll never forgive me. He hates me. He wants me to hurt like I... like I hurt her... He wishes... it was me... instead..."  
  
"You didn't hurt her, House. It was an accident..."  
  
"Maybe... maybe I should just give him what he wants... maybe I should just..."  
  
"House... House, _no_..."   
  
Cuddy is horrified by this train of thought. She instinctively reaches out to embrace him, and is surprised and relieved when he doesn't shove her away, but accepts her comfort.   
  
"No... you didn't do anything wrong..."  
  
She holds him until he falls asleep... and an hour or so later, she falls asleep as well, cradling him in her arms like a child.  
  
Sometime during the middle of the night, she awakens to a feeling of bereft emptiness. She sits up, blinking sleepily in the unfamiliar room, and realizes that she's alone. Alarmed and suddenly wide awake, she makes her way through the apartment.  
  
"House?" she calls out sleepily. "House? Where are you?"  
  
The bathroom light is on, the door ajar.   
  
Dread in her heart, she pushes the door open, biting her lower lip.  
  
"House?" she whispers.  
  
Her heart stops for a moment when she sees him, sitting in the empty bathtub -- surrounded by streams -- rivers -- of his own blood.  
  
She forces herself to react, rushing to his side and grabbing the dull little pocketknife from his trembling hand, throwing it angrily behind her and taking his arm, examining it as she fights off panic.  
  
She's relieved to the point of tears to see that the cuts aren't all that deep. He hasn't severed any major blood vessels. He looks up at her through tear-streaked eyes, his shoulders trembling with sobs.  
  
"It hurts..."  
  
"I know," she whispers as she wraps a clean towel around the wounded arm. "I know, House..."  
  
"It hurts so much... why isn't it enough?"  
  
She's confused, shakes her head slightly with a little frown.  
  
"How much?" he begs, his eyes pleading for her to give him the answer he craves. "How much pain is enough? How much farther do I have to go until he'll forgive me?"


	13. Coffee

He calls and tells her he’s coming over. She can barely make out the words in his alcohol-slurred voice. She tries to tell him to wait where he is, that she’ll pick him up rather than have him drive in this condition – but he’s already hung up.  
  
The coffee’s ready by the time he gets there.  
  
She answers the door, relieved that he’s okay, and helps him to the sofa. He makes a crack or two about whether or not she intends to take advantage of him, and she smiles and sits with him and hands him a steaming mug – which he doesn’t pay much attention to.  
  
He falls asleep on her sofa with her fingers running gently through his hair.


End file.
